


Young and Sweet, Only 50

by Propriety_is_not_a_priority



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (It's not considered trans in dwarrow culture since I get to decide that), Asexual Character, Comfort, Cuddling, Gen, Multi, Nonsexual Ageplay, The ageplay is sort of noncon for a while since Bilbo doesn't tell the company the truth right away, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1774474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Propriety_is_not_a_priority/pseuds/Propriety_is_not_a_priority
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dwarfs find out that Bilbo is only 50, and think he’s only a child still. They start pampering and taking care of him, and at first Bilbo is confused, but then he figures it out and feels guilty, but he also enjoys it too much to correct them, because he’s had to take care of himself, and been all alone, since his parents died when he was barely an adult and it’s so nice to feel small and cared for again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that's inspired by many other fics that play with the difference in how fast aging happens for Hobbits and Dwarves, but the rest has an unfortunate lack of ageplay, and so I aim to make up for that. This story will be fluff on fluff with a side-dish of hurt/comfort and just a tiny bit of plot and angst. Updates will be sporadic, but will happen, since this is my one true feel-good writing thing, and I have the first 20ish chapters planned.  
> I will warn now, that there will possibly, in the far future of this fic, also be everyone-is-in-on-it fully consensual ageplay and on top of that I'm probably going to indulge myself in a bit of watersports/wetting/omorashi, because Bilbo will be more able to relax and fully explore his "kink", after it's become accepted and he feels secure. So yes. But I'll explicitly warn for that later, so you can skip it. The first many many chapters will be purely platonic, non-kinky little feels and lots of hugs  
> Enjoy the teaser chapter!

It started with an offhand comment mumbled into his food. Bilbo was missing the comforts of a bed twice as bad after the respite in Rivendell, and this cursed adventure seemed more horrid than ever now that they were back on the road. His knees drawn up against the freezing wind and the broth cooling faster than he could eat it, it was a small and tired voice that muttered: “I don’t think I’ve missed a hot blanket more in all my 50 years of life.”

Next to him Bofur froze in the process of shoveling down his own dinner. “What was that, lad?”  
Bilbo looked up, startled. He hadn’t really expected anyone to hear him or take notice if they did. He flushed a little. “It was nothing, I’m just a bit cold, that’s all.”  
“No, no. The other part. How many - how old did you say you were?” His usually cheerful face had a funny constipated look, confusion and disbelief mixing with poorly hidden panic.

Bilbo was feeling fairly confused himself. “I’m 50. It’s somewhere afterlithe now, so I’ll be 51 in a little over 2 months, actually, though I don’t suppose I’ll be having much of a birthday party.” He tried for a chuckle then, but was feeling too miserable to be entirely successful.

The panic had now entirely overtaken Bofur’s expression. “Excuse me for a second, lad.” He choked out and jumped up, his bowl careless shoved to the ground.

Bilbo watched in bewilderment as he almost ran to where Thorin was sitting with Balin, bending down to speak hurriedly in his ear. He gesticulated to Bilbo. Suddenly all three of them were looking at him intensely, the same disbelief that Bofur had shown mirrored on Thorin and Balin’s faces. Bilbo was starting to feel a bit apprehensive about it all.  
After yet another frantic bout of hissed conversation, which was starting to draw the attention of the rest of the company, Thorin and Balin both got up and started for where Bilbo was sitting.

For a second he contemplated the chances of escaping back to Rivendell alone, but then it was too late as Balin settled himself in front him, Thorin taking to hovering in the background, an unreadable look on his face. Bilbo swallowed nervously. “What’s the matter?” His voice shook a little, but overall he was proud that the real level of panicked confusion didn’t show in his voice.

  
Balin gave a reassuring smile that actually succeeded in making Bilbo feel a little better. The old dwarf was by far the most sensible of them, and if he was smiling, Bilbo could at least be reasonably sure he wasn’t about to be send home, executed for treason or anything in between.

“It’s nothing to worry about, lad. I just wanted to check a few things Bofur mentioned, with you. Is it right that it’s you birthday soon?”

Bilbo nodded mutely, incomprehension written across his face.

“And you’ll be 51?”

“Look, if this is about me not having a party this year, I assure you that it’s quite alright. I mean, my birthday parties haven’t been anything special since - well, since my parents died, so it really doesn’t make much of a difference, and you really shouldn’t worry about it -”

Thorin cut through his rambling, his gruff voice harsh in the sudden silence that had fallen as the entire company looked on the scene. “Will you be 51 years of age at your next birthday?”

“Well, yes.”

There was a collective intake of breath.

Ori dropped his bowl of broth, spraying Dori with tepid liquid.

Fíli was the first to speak, his voice stumbling out: “But that’s not... I, I don’t, that’s imposs-” “But he acts like an old grump!” Kíli cut through in disbelief. Fíli clapped a hand across his brother’s mouth, but didn’t make any move to apologize, too busy staring wide-eyed at Bilbo.

Bilbo huffed, offended. “I beg your pardon! I do not! I simply act like a proper hobbit, with _manners_.” As opposed to you, was heavily implied.

“Of course, Master Baggins, there are many cultural differences between our people. My sister-son meant no offense, I’m sure, it is just that he is addled and does not know how to think before he opens his mouth.” The glare Thorin sent his nephews was decidedly unfriendly, and Bilbo felt slightly mollified. 

“Well, it’s alright I suppose, but I assure you, I am acting suitably for my age.” He sniffled a little, and tried to resume eating his, by now, quite cold food.

Balin chuckled in a friendly way, before getting more comfortable in his resting place. “Yes of course you are, lad. We dwarfs are quite unused to Hobbit ways.”

Bilbo snorted. “Yes, that much has been obvious, it has been quite, quite the experience, traveling with you, not at all what I’m used to...” Realizing that this could easily be taken the wrong way, he hastened to add: “Not that I want to complain of course, the comforts I’m used to surely have no place on the road!”

Balin was quick to lay a reassuring hand on his arm. “Do not fret, Bilbo, we take no offense.” He hesitated for a second, getting eye-contact with Bofur who had returned to his perch on the ground beside Bilbo. Then he seemed to make a decision.

“Would you like to borrow my extra blanket? I know your bedroll isn’t quite enough up here in the heights.”

Bilbo couldn’t even bring himself to put up a token resistance, but just nodded after only a brief hesitation. He didn’t know what brought the suggestion on, but the thought of sleeping through a night without freezing was very pleasant indeed. “I’d like that very much, Master Balin.”

Balin patted him once more on the arm, and made to get up. “That’s settled then. I’ll get it for you, you finish your dinner. And if you need anything from now on, don’t hesitate to ask, I’m sure there’s someone in our company who’d be happy to help out.”

Bofur was quick to pipe in; “Aye, that’s true enough laddie. Just say if anything is bothering you, and we’ll get that fixed right quick.” He smiled his big friendly smile at Bilbo, no mischief to be found, and Bilbo could only look on with wide-eyes as the rest of the company eagerly followed with proclamations of helpfulness.


	2. Chapter 2

The oddness didn’t pass.

The next morning Bombur winked at him and gave him a little extra breakfast. Gloin offered to carry some of his extra weight, since “you’re so wee and weak compared to the rest of us”, which Bilbo found quite rude, but still reluctantly accepted, knowing he was, in fact, more easily tired than the rest of them.

Dori was suddenly worried about the fact that he didn’t wear shoes, wondering out loud if his feet would really hold up to the cold mountain weather. At that point Bilbo really had to tell the dwarf off, and enlightening him to the fact that insulting a hobbit’s feet is very bad manners indeed. Dori apologized, but kept sending his feet sideway glances. Even little Ori paid him extra attention, fussing a bit at the state of his coat, which he has planned to fix up after the troll accident, while they were in Rivendell, but hadn’t managed to find time to.

At the end of the day, everyone but Thorin and Dwalin had taken the time to stop for a chat and check up on him. To tell the truth, it was quite nice. Unsettling and surprising, since Bilbo could think of no reason for the sudden influx in concern, but being cared for was a nice change from feeling like a bother.

 

At dinner, he was cozied in between Fíli and Kíli right in front of the fire, and the two brothers were regaling him with stories of mischief and adventure from their home. Bilbo felt flushed with heat and happiness, and for the first time truly comfortable asking them questions and actually getting to know them. He even stopped himself from scolding them, when they told him about particularly naughty tricks, giving into a blushing giggle instead. It was reminiscent of his fauntling days, when he’d been a bit of a rascal himself.

“And then of course, Amad” “-That’s our mother-” “well she found us in there, completely covered in flour, and Fíli’s boot stuck in the broken kitchen table.” “I’ve never seen someone get so red in the face so quickly.” “And I couldn’t leave my poor trapped brother, so none of us could run away, I’m telling you, I was more scared than I’ve ever been, before or after” The two were snorting from laughter and Bilbo laughed along. Kíli had an arm around him, and it felt good, it felt warm and approving. Tentatively, he asked: “Tell me about your mother?”

Fíli rumbled against his side, an amused and fond sound. “She’s fierce. As good a fighter as uncle, but more patient. She takes care of a lot of things back home” Kíli smirked: “Yeah, she’s much cleverer than Thorin.” The jab reached the ears of their uncle, but he didn’t do anything but send them a scowl. The company was gathered close, to keep warm. Even if Bilbo was more vulnerable to the cold than the dwarrow, the temperature was swinging around freezing, and it wasn't exactly comfortable for the rest of them. The close quarters meant everyone was partial to the conversation, but it didn’t seem to bother Fíli and Kíli, so Bilbo didn’t let it bother him either. With the way this day had been going, he felt more at ease with the company anyway.

“She sounds like someone I’d like to meet one day.” He smiled. Kíli squeezed his shoulders in recognition. “She’s amazing. Not someone you want to get on the bad side of, she’s got a temper, but she’s always fair. She keeps me and Fíli in line.” Fíli gave him a pointed look. “Well, she keeps us in line _most of the time_.” They chuckled a bit chagrined. "I suppose that's what mothers are for - making sure you don't get into so much trouble, you can never get out!" Fíli said sagely.

“You know, my mother used to encourage my mischief. She was quite an adventurer in her young days, and she enjoyed riling up my father. Letting me run wild, and sometimes joining in, was her way of honouring her Took heritage in a town of Bagginses.” Bilbo shared, quietly. He hadn’t talked about his parents in a long time, but the tales of childhood brought up fond memories of his own.

The sudden silence was tense.

Fíli seemed to hesitate for a second, then somberly asked: “Bilbo, why do you live all alone? Is there no one who takes care of you?”

Bilbo was already regretting bringing attention to himself. It was too painful to talk about his parents for long, a wound that had never really healed. He cleared his throat. He wanted to play living alone off as something normal, something he had chosen for himself and actually _preferred_ , like he had for the last 6 years. But the openness with which Fíli asked, the honest concern on the face of every single dwarrow, who now openly listened to the conversation, made that impossible. He couldn’t lie.

His voice broke halfway through the first sentence. The hardest sentence.

“My mum died 6 years ago, 3 years after my dad passed away. Bag End was hers, built as a wedding gift, and if I move out, it can only go to Bagginses, since there’s no other Tooks left in town. I don’t want them to have it. It’s hers and she wouldn’t have wanted it to become a proper, ordinary town-smial with no sign of her family. They offered to let me move to Tuckborough and live with my aunts and uncles on mother’s side, but I couldn’t leave Bag End. And… I guess I didn’t want to guilt anyone into moving in with me, so I pretended I’d rather stay by myself. It was awfully quiet for a while, but I got used to it. I’m just lucky my mother taught me how to cook, not all young hobbits can get by on their own”

He tried to smile, but it was a pitiful effort, marred by the tears rising in his eyes. It was almost impossible not to let them fall, but he managed. He didn’t know why he felt so vulnerable, but maybe it had to do with the open compassion the dwarrows were showing him.

Hobbits, especially Bagginses, weren’t fond of overt shows of emotion, especially outside the close family. Unfortunately, Bilbo had no close family left, and that meant that this might actually have been the first time, he’d talked of how he felt, since his mother passed. His nose threatened to start running, so he reached for his handkerchief automatically. Ironically, it was the sight of Bofur’s ratty, improvised handkerchief that finally made the first tear spill, but he quickly masked it with the clothe. Honestly, a grown hobbit weeping in public.

The crushing hug came as a surprise.

Kíli used his grip on Bilbo's shoulders to twist his body around for an embrace, making his forehead bump into Kíli’s own shoulder. On the other side, Fíli wrapped his arms awkwardly around them both.

“It’s alright to cry, you know. You don’t have to pretend here.” Fíli whispered into his curls, and Bilbo could feel the tears that had been dried by shock, well up again with a vengeance. He didn’t know how to react. All propriety was screaming at him to free himself from their hold, and put some distance between himself and this embarrassing situation. But at the same time, Fíli’s words spoke directly to that small, hidden part of himself that had never stopped hurting, and he _really didn’t want to be a Baggins right now_. He wanted to let himself be comforted by these strange, hairy dwarrows in their smelly leathers and coarse clothes, who were the first to show him concern, without underlying shame. It was ridiculous, they were much younger than him, and yet, he hadn’t felt this small in a long time.

He muffled the first sob in Kíli’s tunic, letting himself forget for a second what was proper.

Fíli kept making soft soothing noises into his ear, as he sobbed out what felt like a lifetime of loneliness. Kíli’s arms were unyielding, a hand rubbing his neck, and around them the company kept silent.

 

He had no clear recollection of getting into his bedroll, but he was warm and snug in it, when he woke up a little later.

He didn’t feel entirely aware, but soon realized what had woken him. It was night, and the dwarrow were asleep around him, but he could see the silhouettes of Dori, Balin and Oin sitting next to the fire. Their voices were hushed, but as he drifted in and out of sleep, he could hear the occasional, upset raise in volume.

“He was _44_!” Dori’s voice. “I know, I can do math.” Oin grumbled back. Balin’s sigh was audible.

“They let a child raise himself! Left him all alone, at a time where he should have been taken extra care of! To think, losing both your parents before maturity, poor youngling.” Something about their conversation made faint alarm bells ring at the back of Bilbo’s mind, but he couldn’t gather himself enough to find out why.

“I must admit that I’m surprised - and not in a good way. I always took hobbits to be a good folk, who cared much for their young.”Balin’s tired voice was filled with sorrow. Oin puffed his pipe. “Aye, and then to make the poor lad feel guilty about being lonely. I swear, tonight was the first time he’s let that out, he was so broken up. It’s terrible what grief can do to children.”

There was somber hum of agreement from them all, and as Bilbo fell deeper into sleep again, his last conscious thought was to wonder, what child they were talking about, and why it sounded so much like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright-y everyone, Bilbo letting down barriers and already suspecting. That overheard conversations is going to make a lot more sense later. I'll try to sneak in some writing tomorrow too!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just something a bit short? I am still writing, and won't be slowing down for a while! I just have plans some days, so I'm not always consistent in how much time I have <3 I hope you enjoy! Warning for unknowing misgendering here, and a bit of general gender mish-mash since dwarrow take those things in stride.

Bilbo woke up embarrassed.

He would have liked a moment’s reprieve and relaxation, but unfortunately his first thought was of the scene he had made last night. He gave a silent groan, one hand going to cover his eyes.

“What’s that then, lad?”

Bofur’s voice startled him out of his misery. The dwarf had once again placed his bedroll next to Bilbo’s, and Bilbo would admit to feeling a little better, whenever he had someone sleeping by his side. No matter how long they had already traveled, he couldn’t get used to sleeping outside. The noises, the cold - the only reason he was getting any sleep at all, was his complete exhaustion every night.

He did spare a fond thought for the blanket Balin has offered him, it has helped a lot with keeping the cold at bay. In fact, he’d been very cozy all night, sleeping uninterrupted, except for that slight disturbance-

Bofur’s hand came down on his shoulder, gently. “Are you alright?” His normally cheery voice was soft, and Bilbo could feel himself flush a little with embarrassed pleasure. He didn’t understand why the dwarrow were suddenly being so nice, and he didn’t understand why it was making him so flustered and needy, but it was almost impossible to stop the fluttering feeling in his stomach. It was all in all a terribly inappropriate and outright strange thing. He cleared his throat nervously, sitting up.

“I’m fine, Bofur.”

“Nonsense, something’s bothering you, I can tell. I can keep a secret, you know.”

Bilbo send him a questioning glance. What was that supposed to mean?

“I-, uh, I suppose I’m just terribly embarrassed at the way I carried on last night. Ruining the mood like that, causing a scene. Very unpleasant for all involved.” 

Bofur flicked his nose.

Bilbo sent him an outraged glare, but before he could vocalize his protests, Bofur squeezed his shoulder a bit tighter, and drew him closer, unusually somber eyes looking straight into his. “Listen to me, laddie. No one thinks badly of you for yesterday. There’s nothing shameful in grief, and nothing embarrassing in sharing it with your friends.”

Stupidly, Bilbo felt his eyes well up with tears again.

Hastily, he wiped them away, and sprung up from the bedroll. The chilly morning air made him regret leaving his warm cocoon so fast, but he couldn’t look Bofur in the eye one second longer, or he was going to start weeping again. It was like a dam had burst, and he didn’t know how to go back to not feeling, all the things that had been held back, but he also didn’t know how to handle those feelings.

So instead, he murmured something unintelligible that involved the word thanks, and busied his hands packing his things for travel.

Bofur gave him a fond smile, but got to packing as well. When Bilbo made to leave, and possibly find some breakfast, he caught his arm.

“Wait up for a second Bilbo. I’ve seen you push that jacket of yours up around your ears. Do you freeze your head?”

Bilbo shyly looked back. “Uh, yes I guess I do. Hobbits have very sensitive ears you know, and my tips are getting a bit cold in the wind up here.”

Bofur nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, I guess there’s nothing for it then.” Then he gave a decisive gesture, and took his hat off, and before Bilbo could react, he dumped it on his head. “There you go, that should keep your little ears cozy. It’s a fine hat you know.” He grabbed either side and pulled it firmly in place, and ended the movement with a boob on Bilbo’s nose. Then, cheerfully whistling, he went to Bombur to ask about some cram.

Bilbo looked after him in stunned silence. A hand sneaked up to fondle one side of the wooly hat. It was a bit greasy and would without a doubt make his hair even dirtier, but it was warm and a little too big, and he couldn’t have stopped the big smile that spread on his face if he’d tried.

 

 o0o

 

He walked next to Dori that day, the dwarf having adjusted his pace to fit Bilbo’s. He didn’t feel much like talking, too caught up in thinking, but Dori filled out the silence nicely, talking about Ered Luin and his life there, the merchant he had worked with, the fine wine, tea and delicacies they sold. Bilbo listened and asked questions, able to keep up like only a hobbit of the Shire would be. Dori’s gossip was simple in comparison to the network in Hobbiton. It was very relaxing, really, and no one had asked about Bofur's hat so far, so all was well.

 

The topic came upon crafting, and Bilbo realized that it was Dori himself who was responsible for the fine knitwork Ori wore. Excitedly, he asked about it. He wasn’t particularly fond of knitting, preferring other forms of crafting personally, but it was the first time he had discovered a shared interest with one of the dwarrow, and it would be great to get to discuss something they had in common. Unfortunately, it only made Dori look at him strangely.

“You knit?” He asked incredulously.

Bilbo frowned, a little put out. “Well, yes. Why is that so strange?”

Dor gave him a searching look, then clicked his tongue. “I suppose it might be a cultural difference. Boys and men don’t knit in dwarrow society. Nor do many dwarrowdams for that sake. It mostly just mothers who knit for their dwarflings - I do it, because our mother is dead, and Ori should never feel the loss. He enjoys knitted clothing.” Dori send his brother a fond smile.

Bilbo’s frown deepened. He didn’t understand why crafting clothes should be for women, and it didn’t make sense in context- “If men don’t knit, why do you?”

Dori gave him a surprised look. “I’m not a man. I’m dwarrowdam. Didn’t anyone tell you?” 

Bilbo couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

H-She was a woman? But he had a beard! He could suddenly recall tidbits from some of the few texts on dwarrow he had read, and there might have been something about the eerie similarity between the men and women, but to think that Dori was a woman…

He felt suddenly quite shy talking to her. 

“No you really wouldn’t know, would you.” Dori mussed to herself. “Don’t worry about it, Bilbo dear, there isn’t much difference between dwarrow and dwarrowdams in the end, except we are of course far more reasonable and refined.”

Nori popped up behind her, apparently out of nowhere.

“What are you teaching him now, you old snob.”

Dori didn’t visibly startle, but gave Bilbo a sharp-edged smile without turning towards Nori. “Case in point, my brother.” There was an icy quality to her words. Bilbo smiled back uncertainly. Was she joking, or?

Nori laughed, though, so Bilbo figured they weren’t really fighting. 

“Aren’t you getting bored listening to him natter on about propriety and what not?”

Bilbo frowned. “Him? But I thought..”

Nori sent Dori a quick questioning look, then turned his smile back on Bilbo. “Well, we don’t usually say she when we’re traveling. It’s sort of a security measure if you will. But I suppose if it just us fine gentlemen present, there’s no harm done.” He put an arm around Bilbo, winking at him.

What was with these dwarrow and physical contact all of a sudden?

“Back to my original question! Aren’t you tired of hanging ‘round this prissy dwarf? Wouldn’t you much rather come with me and Ori and gather firewood while we walk? Dwalin reckons we’re going to stop for the night soon.”

Instinctively Bilbo sent Dori a look, to see if it was alright. She sighed, but smiled at them.

“Off you go then. But don’t walk too far from the group! And Nori, you watch out for them, you hear me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't plan to do anything in particular with trans!Dori. I just like female Dori in fics, and I love trans characters, since I am in fact trans, so I decided that it was a thing, that just is in this universe. Dori is a trans woman, and no one cares, except maybe Bilbo for a while there, because he is new to it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so holidays are not conductive to writing. (Especially not holidays with parents who make you feel like shit, hahah) BUT there's only a little over a week left, and then I'll be back, and can hopefully pick this little beauty up properly. Until then I give you tiny chapter, that I wrote in the car.

“So, Bilbo, do you want to play a game?”

Nori and Ori were both smiling at him, expectation shining out of their eyes. Bilbo hesitated, not sure what to do. He couldn’t remember the last time he had played anything, that wasn’t for the benefit of some small fauntling or two. Perhaps Ori was younger than he’d previously thought?

“What sort of game?” He asked cautiously.

Ori grinned with delight. “It’s a word game! Nori taught it to me, we used to do it all the time bag home in Ered Luin, whenever Nori was in town. It’s great fun, and we can play while we walk.”

A glance around confirmed the way forward to be a fairly easy mountain path surrounded by coarse shrubbery and crooked trees. He should be able to do two things at once, as long as it didn’t become too hard to find the sticks and twigs for the fire.

“Well, alright, if you want to, we can play.”

To his quiet consternation, the brothers reacted with amused smiles, seemingly finding something about his answer funny. Ori quickly went on though: “Ok, the rules go like this…”

 

Bilbo hadn’t had this much fun in ages. He’s gotten into the game quickly, finding that he was actually quite good at it. Words were a speciality of his, and he considered himself a bit of a linguist, but going up against Nori and Ori turned out to be a challenge. Ori as a scribe, could easily go toe to toe with Bilbo’s vocabulary, and Nori had an apparent ocean of slang and crude words to bring into the playing field, making Ori and Bilbo giggle and scold him in mock-horror. Yes, Bilbo had quite forgotten his reluctance after a few rounds. They had fallen a bit behind the company, but not enough to worry, and the sun was shining and his feet didn't hurt that bad at all.

He gave a content sigh, hugging his bundle of twigs.

Ori gently knocked his shoulder against Bilbo’s, grinning at him happily. Bilbo had ended up winning, after Nori had called quits claiming that Bilbo ‘had to be cheating and keeping a dictionary up his sleeve’. To be quite honest, he had a slight suspicion that Ori and Nori had actually let him win, ridiculous as the thought was. Deliberately losing games was something reserved for spoiling young ones, at least in his book.

"Did you enjoy that?" Ori asked softly. "I know you feel pressured to keep up and be mature and all that, but it's really alright for you to have fun from time to time!"

Nori butted in between them, nodding sagely. "It's true, a bit of fun and games never hurt nobody. Those nobs with sticks up their asses could do with a bit o’ relaxing."

Ori swatted Nori's shoulder. "Don't say that about Thorin, he's a king, he has to be a little..."

"Dry as desert during a heatwave?"

This prompted another wave of outraged giggling from Bilbo and Ori.

When Bilbo got his breath back, he returned to Ori’s question. He wanted to make sure the lad knew that his initiative was very much appreciated. "You know, I did enjoy it. A lot! I can't remember the last time I got to play anything at all - taking care of Bag End didn't leave much room for fooling around with the fauntlings."

Ori and Nori looked at each other. Ori then promptly dropped his armful of firewood and wrapped his arms around Bilbo, twigs and all. Nori snorted, but then, before Bilbo could think how to react, his wood joined Ori's on the ground and he joined the hug, enveloping both of them as well as he could.

Surrounded by slightly smelly dwarf Bilbo couldn't find it in himself to protest at all. Instead he dropped his head to rest on Ori's wooly shoulder and shut down any thoughts as to what was going in with him and his strange dwarrow, and enjoyed the feeling of being cuddled. This time he didn’t cry at least.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I don't really have an explanation other than, I sort of forgot about this in my post-vacation frenzy of socializing. I will point you to the introduction note, that warned of sporadic writing. But fear not, I have the quest planed out as far as Mirkwood, so baring any emergencies, this will be continued.

Soon, Thorin decided that it was time to make camp. It wasn't really an ideal camping ground, since their path on the mountain got thinner all time, and they couldn’t risk moving too far from it. Still, it was isolated enough that the firewood gathered by Bilbo and the others was needed. Sleeping without a fire was too cold, except in the direst circumstances.

Bombur got to making dinner, inviting Bilbo to help. It was quiet work, since it wasn't clear who of them was the shyest, but even if conversation was sparse, they worked together fine and Bilbo had a lot of fun trying to make their rather boring provisions into something other than bland and chewy. He had missed cooking. Bombur was very kind too, and spending time with him turned out to be very relaxing.

 

When it was time for eating, Balin made room for Bilbo to sit with him. Dwalin and Thorin were sitting close too, making Bilbo a little nervous, but Balin himself had been nothing but polite and friendly, so his company was very welcome.

The first part of dinner passed with the old dwarf asking about hobbit culture and such, which Bilbo told him about readily. It was a bit nostalgic to talk about the Shire and its traditions, and he couldn't help but add in personal stories about his family and neighbours. Though there were many different families in the Shire, he was cursed with being part of two of the most notorious and influential ones, (Perhaps only surpassed by the Brandybucks) so there was a well of material to draw from.

Learning that Bilbo's mother had been one child of 12 had Balin more than a little bogeyed. Dwalin, who had moved gradually closer during the conversation, exclaimed something in the dwarfish language that made his brother give him a stern look.

Bilbo laughed. “I suppose twelve is a bit much for my taste too. It’s more reasonable to stop around the sixth or seventh, or you’ll have to dig out smial extensions!”

“Such large families are common in the Shire, then?” Balin asked, a note of awe in his voice.

“Well, I suppose. It’s considered average to have about 3 or 4 fauntlings, but some families are much bigger.”

Dwalin frowned suddenly. “How come you don’t have a few younger siblings hanging at your furry heels, then?”

Balin hit him on the back of his head.

“I apologize for my brother’s lack of tact. It’s not our business.” He was quick to reassure.

Bilbo felt a wave of fondness for the dwarf, always courteous and considerate. It was a bit private, but then again, this was one thing he really had come to terms with long ago. Compared to the emotional upheavals of the last days, sharing this with his dwarrow wasn’t that big a deal.

“It’s alright Balin, I don’t mind. My mother didn’t talk about it much, but I think the fact of it was, that I was a bit of a handful when I was in my first years, and so my parents agreed to wait a bit before going for more. And then before they got around to it came the Fell Winter when I was 21, and my father got ill, and never really got better. Any plans of more fauntlings were dropped then, I guess.”

He gave a little shrug. “I never thought about it, back then, since I had my cousins to play with, and my parents seemed happy enough. But it would have been nice, to have a few siblings after- you know. When my mum passed away.”

Balin patted him on his back. “Aye, that it would, laddie. That it would.”

 

The conversation came to a natural end there, the mood not ruined, but nonetheless more somber than it had been.

 

o0o

 

 “Do you think Bofur will want his hat back?” Bilbo suddenly thought to ask, a bit anxious at the idea, yet slightly ashamed to not have thought of it before. He’d just kept the dwarf’s warm hat all day, without even thinking about it.

 “You could ask him, but I don’t think so Bilbo. I believe it was a gift, at least for as long as you are feeling cold up here in the mountains.”

 “Oh. I’ll ask him then… tomorrow.” Bilbo mumbled, pulling the hat down over his ears.

 

o0o

 

They had settled down to sleep, and a few of the dwarrow were already starting the nightly chorus of snores. Bilbo’s bedroll was set up beside Balin’s, no more than a few feet separating them.

 “Are you sleeping, Balin?” Bilbo whispered. Balin opened one eye in response, giving him a sleepy smile. “Not yet, laddie. What is it?”

 Bilbo peeked out from underneath the extra blanket Balin let him borrow. He worried at his lip.

“I just wanted to- to thank you, I suppose. For listening and for the blanket and everything.” To his consternation, his eyes were burning again, but he pushed forward. “You and everyone else have been so nice to me these last few days. I don’t know why, but I’m very happy for it. So, thank you, so much.” He sniffled a bit.

Balin made a soft sound. He reached over to grab on to the side of Bilbo’s bedroll, confusing him, but then it and he was being pulled across the ground, until the two sleeping mats were flush against each other.

It turned out that even though Balin had the appearance of a slightly fragile elderly dwarf, he had very strong arms, which Bilbo could also feel, as the dwarf reached to draw him into an embrace, holding his curly head to one shoulder. It was slightly awkward, considering they were both still lying down, tangled in their blankets, but it was comfortable nonetheless.

“You have nothing to thank us for Bilbo. Indeed we should be apologizing for making you feel as if you do. Kindness should not be a privilege, but the default, and we ought to remember that all of us. You deserve all the kindness in the world lad, and if a couple of silly dwarrow are to be the ones to show you that, it’s something we’ll gladly do.”

Bilbo managed a few quick breaths of fight, before tears won once again. He pressed his wet eyes against Balin shoulder, and tried not to make sounds that would wake anyone. He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know what to do with himself, and so he did nothing, except weep silently on Balin’s clothes, and cling unto his blanket.

Balin made soothing sounds, stroked his hair, and didn’t make any move to separate their sleeping places again.

Bilbo fell asleep with a head that ached, but a heart that felt as free of pain as he could ever remember it being.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The next day saw their path thinning as they wandered up the mountain, until only one dwarrow could fit at a time. They held on to the mountainside, and Bilbo focused on only looking forward and never down, so he could avoid seeing the progressively larger distance between the valley floor and the path they were walking up. Bofur’s hat, which he had laughingly proclaimed Bilbo’s for as long as he wanted it, helped this endeavor, as he folded the flaps in to his face to work as blinkers.

The sun had disappeared behind thick clouds, and Bilbo felt dread at the thought of being caught on the bare, slippery rock in rain - or even snow, if the temperature dropped again.

 

Fíli and Kíli had taken the places before and after him in the line, and forced him to be part of their conversation, by consistently having one through him. They kept asking his opinion on everything from the best pie filling (a topic Bilbo was secretly pleased with, since his knowledge of it was vast, and the dwarrows were very impressed) to whether or not Thorin’s grumpiness was the result of either digestion issues or a lacking love life.

Bilbo refused to comment, and  was saved by Dori, who seemed to be able to sense when people were being impolite and had thus taken a break from fussing over Ori, to give the princes an outraged scolding, which brought them to a chastened silence.

It only lasted for as long as she was still within hearing distance, though, before the two were snickering like tweens again.

 

Bilbo shook his head fondly.

“Honestly, you two. If I didn’t know your uncle would never allow it, I’d have said you were far too young to come on this journey.”

Kíli gave an outraged squawk from behind him, while Fíli spluttered and looked at him with all the offense of the recently grown up, whose maturity is questioned.

“But Bilbo, that doesn’t make any sense for _you_ to say.” Kíli whined.

Bilbo blinked, trying to figure out what that could possibly mean.

Fíli nodded sagely. “If _we_ were considered too young, you’d be way too young, Hobbit or not. You’re already lucky that Uncle Thorin decided not to send you home.”

Kíli popped his head over Bilbo’s shoulder, startling the bewildered Hobbit even more. “It’s because he _acts_ like a _proper hobbit_ with _manners._ ” The two princes snorted with laughter at quoting Bilbo’s own words back at him.

Bilbo felt a little like the world had turned upside-down. A dreadful suspicion was sneaking into his mind, even as he shied away from it.

“How old are you?” he asked, voice very small.

Fíli answered readily, back once again turned towards Bilbo as he followed Bifur in front of him.

“I’m 82 and Kíli is 77.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I squirted this dumb little chapter out, since I've been planning to get to the plot part anyway. Dealing with some shitty stuff and trying to get through university, so not sure how fast things will be, but since this was so short and sort of ends on a cliffhanger (sorry) I'll try to write a bit more this week and put in another chapter while I still have the motivation.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, only a day of waiting! I was too excited about Bilbo's realization to leave it alone, so here it is <3 This largely happened because of the lovely comments on the last chapter, so thank you! A lot! You are all really sweet.

Bilbo walked in white noise until the midday break shortly after. The princes didn’t seem to have noticed, luckily. Maybe they thought he was offended - no, _sulking._ Kíli had ruffled his hair as he walked past the spot where Bilbo leaned against the cold mountain side, hat temporarily off, and Bilbo had barely registered it, except to catalogue it as yet another piece of evidence.

Thorin had paused their travel here, because the path had widened to allow them to move around each other and sit comfortably, which was just what Bilbo did, gliding down the cold stone, until he was pressed against it closely, arms wrapped around his legs.

He had separated himself from the others, deep in thought. His dismay was only growing, the more he thought about the past days, and he felt something much like shame creeping into his body, sitting like lead in all his joints and weighing his chest down.

If Fíli and Kíli where around 80 years of age, and just barely considered old enough to travel, that had to make 50 years the equivalent of…

He buried his face in his hands.

They thought he was a fauntling. A young tween maybe, he didn’t know exactly how dwarrow aging worked, but definitely not older than, say, a 25-year-old hobbit. It might actually be closer to 15.

He felt tears well up in his eyes, and viciously squeezed his fingers into his eye sockets to make them stop. It was a terrible thought, that all the kindness of the past days were caused by such a misunderstanding, and Bilbo was humiliated that he had apparently been so needy that he had just unquestioningly soaked up their care and affection. How pathetic was he, to break into tears at the first sign of friendliness. He, a grown gentlehobbit, a Baggins of Bag End, mistaken for a child and _acting like it._

No wonder the dwarrow hadn’t thought to second-guess their conclusion, it was hardly as if he’d given them any reason to.

The worst part was the growing sense of loss. An empty, cold feeling in his chest, mocking him, tying up his heart in knots, whispering of no more hugs and no more games and no more extra blankets. No pats on the shoulder, smiles and cheery winks, cuddles at the fire. His fingers touched the furry edge of Bofur’s hat, still perched on his head, and his mouth opened in soundless pain.

It would all go back to the way it was before - no, worse. He’d have to tell them the truth, now that he knew, and they’d get angry. They would feel like he tricked them, but he hadn’t meant to, _he hadn’t meant to-_

 

He flinched as a hand gently touched his shoulder.

“Are you alright, Bilbo?”

It was Ori, the sweet lad, who probably thought he was much older than Bilbo, and had taught him that word game and hugged him in the forest, and would probably avoid him, when he learned the truth. He’d be embarrassed, and rightly so.

Bilbo choked down a sob, his frame shaking with the strain, and Ori felt it of course.

“Oh no, don’t cry - what’s wrong? Tell me?” He sat down next to Bilbo, frantically wrapping his arm around Bilbo’s shoulder to hug him, trying to separate him from the stone he was pressed up against. Bilbo resisted the hug, pressing his hands hard against his face. All the old shame at his tears was back, a shame he thought he had overcome as the dwarrow accepted them readily and openly - but of course they didn’t think anything wrong with a fauntling crying. A grown-up hobbit was something else entirely.

“Was it the princes? Did they tease you?” Ori sounded ready to push Fíli and Kíli from the mountain, his normally sweet voice filled with determined anger. Bilbo shook his head, looking up to explain that it was nothing to do with them - but it was too late, Ori had already marched to where the two were sitting, grabbing them by the ears.

They protested loudly of course, outraged at the treatment, and Bilbo gave a wet chuckle at the sight. By the time they had been dragged, with much resistance, to where he was sitting, Bilbo had himself under control. The few tears that had escaped were dried, his throat cleared, and his mood temporarily lightened by their shenanigans.

“Apologize to Bilbo!” Ori demanded, hands at his sides. He looked very much like his sister in that moment.

Kíli rubbed at his sore ear despondently. “But we didn’t do anything, did we Fíli?”

Fíli shook his head grumpily, trying to right the braids as the sight of his head.

“You’re lying, he’s really upse-” Bilbo stood up before Ori could start stomping his feet in righteous anger.

“It’s alright Ori, they really didn’t do anything.”

Ori still looked upset.

“But you were crying all alone” he huffed.

Bilbo blushed from embarrassment. “I wasn’t _really_ crying.”

Fíli was starting to look worried now, and stopped fiddling with his hair. “You were crying?”

 “I’m sorry we teased you, we didn’t mean anything bad.” Kíli looked very contrite, shuffling his feet.

Bilbo felt close to stomping _his_ feet soon. “You didn’t make me sad, I wasn’t crying because of you!”

Fíli still looked worried. “But you _were_ crying?”

Bilbo was saved from answering by the call for them to move on.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk, I guess it's just the way this story is going to be, tiny little chapters <3 This sequence, which spans this chapter and the next, is called "Goblins + moral crisis" in my notes and that really tells you all you need to know.

Placing himself between Dwalin and Bofur on the continued journey was easy enough, even if Fíli and Kíli were sending him wounded puppy eyes. Bilbo couldn’t face their questions, not before he had his own mind sorted, which did not seem to be a prospect for the near future. There were too many conflicted emotions and too much at risk for any easy decision.

 

The sky seemed to agree with his mood, darkening slowly as the afternoon grew longer, until the rain started falling. The positive side of this was the way it proved distracting from his brooding. The negative side was that it was distracting, because he had to focus all his attention on not slipping on the wet stone and falling into the deep, dark abyss right next to him.  

It was not even dinner time yet, and the clouds made it black as night, wind ripping into them and harsh rain blinding them, as they tried to find a place that allowed for them to settle down safely. Thorin would have called halt, if there had been any opportunity for it, but the storm has caught them at the worst possible time, stranded on the shallow path, with no resting place in sight.

The situation could hardly get worse - until it did.

Who’d have thought creatures like stone giants could exist in this world? Not Bilbo, that was for sure. And yet there they were, huge beyond imagination, indecipherable from the mountain they rested in, until they began to move. There was no time to think, only react, and Bilbo acted purely on instinct and panic, just the same as the dwarrows surrounding him, as they tried to stay on the moving cliff. 

Vaguely he could hear people shouting his name, barely audible above the racket of crashing stone and roaring wind. 

They were crashing into the mountain side, and Bilbo was sliding down too fast, only barely managing to dig his fingertips into a crevice in the cliff. His grip was weak and he couldn’t look down, or it would all be over. There were shouts from above, worried cries, and he made eye-contact with Ori, wanted to reach for him.

His hands gave out. 

Then Thorin was there, pushing him up, and Bofur was holding unto him, and the princes and little Ori, and he shook in their embrace. Dwalin’s large hand ruffled his hair, and there was almost affection in his voice as he grumbled: “I thought we lost our Burglar.”

“He’s been lost since he left home - he should never have come. He’s far too young for this venture, and we cannot take care of him properly.”

Thorin cut through the sense of relief, and Bilbo stiffened with dread. This was it, he should speak up now. He should protest that he was neither young or in need of being taken care of. He should tell them the truth, explain that he hadn’t known. He should-

But he didn’t, he only clung unto Bofur’s and Fíli’s shoulders and then it was too late and Thorin was hurrying them on.

 

o0o

 

Bilbo could not sleep.

Time was running out for him to talk to the dwarrows in honesty. If he didn’t tell them the truth soon, he would have already willfully deceived them by keeping silent with his realization.

He didn’t want to lie, but he also hadn’t the courage to tell them the truth, he was too selfish.

He could not bear their scorn, or their anger - or even worse, their sadness. The thought that they would find out the truth and inevitably hate him wouldn’t leave his head. Logically, he knew most of them would probably only see it as an embarrassment, a cultural misunderstanding to laugh about in a few years. But even that was too large a change from the sweet affection they showed him now, and he was too blasted selfish to lose that.

He couldn’t fall in their regard. He’d never get himself to stand up and voluntarily let it go, and so there was only one thing for it.

  
He had to leave.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey what's up, i'm finally back, this is an actual chapter (only a year late)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hah! i bet you'd given up on ever seeing ME again! but i promised i'd continue this, and i always (almost always, anyway) keep my promises. i've finally, after almost a year, gotten back into the hobbit, and this is just a tiny chapter to see if you guys are still out there, of if you've all left the fandom behind in me absence (which, honestly, i wouldn't blame you for). i plan to keep the spirit going for at least long enough to get the company to beorn's, since my prior planing stretches until they leave for mirkwood and not much further. but maybe! i'll continue even longer! i'd forgotten how much i freaking love dwarfs holy shit, just. love them

Packing his things in silence was nerve-wracking. The dwarrow were snoring happily around Bilbo, but he knew the smallest sound would wake them - they might make more noise in their sleep than most people could achieve fully awake, but they were all warriors, and if anything seemed out of place they would jerk back to alertness, quick as you please.

Luckily, he was a hobbit, and hobbits know how to keep quiet.

 

He hadn’t accounted for the night watch though. Stupid, there was always someone on watch when they were camped down, what a silly thing to forget, and yet he startled like a deer when Bofur’s hand landed on his shoulder as he was sneaking through the cave opening.

“What’re you doing, lad? You should be sleeping.”

Bofur kept his voice low as well, which was good. Bilbo would only have to convince him all this was for the best, and none of the others even had to wake up. He just had to make himself open his mouth and explain, and it’d be over with, and he could get go back to Rivendell, stay with the elves for a while, and forget any of this ever happened.   


With a pang, he realized he was still wearing Bofur’s hat. How could he have thought to leave without giving that back, the wear on it showed clearly that it was well-loved, and Bilbo had no business running off with Bofur’s property, given to him under false pretenses. He slipped it off slowly and reluctantly, thumbs caressing the worn fur at the edges, before resolutely holding it out to Bofur.

The dwarf was looking at him in confusion and, if Bilbo wasn’t much mistaken, worry. “Bilbo, what is it? We talked about the hat, you can keep it for as long as you like.”

“No, Bofur, I can’t. You don’t want me to have it, trust me.”

He bit his lip and waved the hat at Bofur, trying to make him take it. Bofur held up his hands in refusal; worry clear on his face now. “O’ course I want you to have it, what’re you on about, lad? What’s wrong?”

To his complete consternation, Bilbo could feel tears well up in his eyes again. He didn’t know how to say what he needed to say and Bofur was worried about him, but in a bit he'd be angry or disgusted with him instead, and it was almost unbearable. 

Suddenly angry with himself and the situation, he threw the hat into Bofur’s chest and covered his face with his hands. Maybe it’d be easier if he didn’t have to see Bofur’s face while he talked, and in the end there was nothing for it, except forcing himself to start talking and hoping he'd figure out how to finish along the way: “No you don’t, you don’t understand! I didn’t mean for it to happen, it was just a misunderstanding, but it went on for too long and now I don’t know what to do, I’m not-”

 

Bilbo broke off as his downward turned gaze but him in position to notice the vague blue glow his sword was giving, escaping through the thin line of metal not covered by the scabbard. It took a moment for it to register, and then he tensed. Bofur, meanwhile had put his hand back on Bilbo’s shoulder, massaging it comfortingly.

“You’re not what, lad?”

“…Sword.”

“I- What? You’re not sword?”

“No Bofur, _my sword_ , it’s _glowing_!”

Before they could react, the floor in the middle of the cave started to disappear underneath the sleeping dwarrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh, i guess bofur has smth to be curious about now, huh?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yyeeah i'm writing! it's working! it was not a fluke, i repeat, it was not a fluke. enjoy, friends <3

Their fall through the dark was chaotic and terrifying, everyone bumping into each other, most of the dwarrow half-awake and shouting in anger and confusion. Bilbo tried to curl into a ball and protect his head, which wasn’t half as tough as the dwarrow’s thick skulls, from collisions with the side of the tunnel they were plummeting down.

They tumbled into light then, landing on top of each other inside a wooden net of sorts. Bilbo and Bofur were at the top, from having been the furthest away from where the cave floor had started its collapse, and after a dazed second, Bilbo hurriedly scooted off the unfortunate dwarf who’d gotten his bum in their face. It turned out to be a wild-eyed Nori, and Bilbo was just about to apologize, when a loud roar had them all wisening up the fact that a large number of goblins were charging towards them.

 

They were set upon before most of them had even gotten on their feet, let alone gotten their weapons out, and though they all fought, it was clear from where Bilbo was watching in a panic that they were severely disadvantaged.

 

“Bilbo! Get out your sword, lad!” Dwalin, one of the first to leap in front to fight, shouted from the midst of at least 4 goblins. They were scurrying around him and scratching with nails as long as claws - the smallest one trying to climb his leg. Bilbo fumbled to comply. He hardly knew the proper way to hold a sword, and now he had to try to use the confounded thing, oh dear.

He didn’t manage to do more than tug vaguely at the hilt, before a heavy weight slammed into his side, and he stumbled a bit trying to keep his balance, but lost his grip on the sword before it even left its sheath. The weight turned out to have been a raging Bifur, cursing wildly in dwarfish and trying to fight off goblins with his hands, even though they’d long since gotten his weapons. In fact, Bilbo noted as he looked around, none of them had weapons left, except him. And Kíli, Fíli and Ori were already apprehended and being dragged spitting and flailing along a stone path towards the gruesome looking labyrinth of bridges in front of them.

Maybe the goblins were ignoring him because he wasn’t fighting? But that wasn’t right of him, he should be trying to defend the others, do something to save them from the frightful creatures, before they were all caught and eaten. Not just stand there like a startled deer.

 

In front of him, Dwalin lost the fight to keep off the smallest goblin, and it was soon scratching at his eyes with a terrible grin on its ugly face. Bilbo resolutely jumped into the fight, grabbing unto the thing and trying to pull it off the dwarf, yanking at its legs as well as he could, even as he was a little too short to reach properly.

“Hey! Get off, you- you _vile_ -”

One of the other goblins, the biggest one, took hold of the neck of Bilbo’s coat and effortlessly lifted him off its friend. Bilbo had a moment to make terrified eye-contact with a shocked looking Dwalin, before he was flung through the air, colliding with another goblin. It gave a yelping snarl of surprise, as it was pushed off its feet and they both slid far too close to the edge of the platform. Bilbo tried desperately to get up, but the goblin grabbed his ankle and dragged him back down when he tried, and they had a moment of grappling to be the first one to stand. In the end it wasn't clear how it happened, but suddenly they over-balanced.

For a second more they were swaying on the edge, both grasping at air and each other to reverse gravity, and then they were tumbling right off the side of the path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be from the company's pov. i'm not gonna write the gollum scene unless you guys really really want me to, bc i feel like we've all read it a thousand times. the small things i've changed from canon here are to a) make the company more aware of bilbo and b) make sure they see him fall *evil laughter*


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updating from venice ✌ company pov! hard to figure out with so many different people but i hope i did it justice

Dwalin and Nori were the only ones to see Bilbo’s fall. Dwalin’s roar of anger and desperation drew the attention of most of the company, though, distracting them enough that the goblin’s finally managed to secure all but Dwalin himself, who was frantically mowing his way through the goblins to look over the edge of the platform.

“Is he there- Dwalin! Is he there?!” Nori shouted, as he was dragged backwards along the path by several goblins, a third continually pulling weapons off him to add to the huge pile it was already carrying.

Dwalin didn’t say anything, but the defeated way he slumped at the edge, close enough that his swaying made it decidedly risky, gave the answer away.

Bofur, already pulled a way ahead of the two others, was turning his head trying to see behind even as the goblins were trying to make him walk forward: “What’s he talking about? Is who where? What’s going on?”

Nori was the one to avoid answering then, whispering curses into his own beard. Dwalin didn’t fight the hands of the goblins when they came for him again, but was dragged away too, the last in the line of dwarrow.

 

Their journey through the bridges and tunnels of the goblin kingdom was a disorienting mess of torches, goblin screeches and the occasional collision with the walls and floors as their captors were less than careful - and it didn’t offer any opportunity for the rest of the company to ask their questions. However, the moment they were tossed together on a brightly lit platform, the others rounded on Dwalin, talking on top of each other. Only Fíli, Kíli and Ori hadn’t heard Dwalin’s cry, and didn’t understand what was happening.  

Dwalin was lost for words at the onslaught of questions, turning a beseeching stare on Nori, who finally grit out through his teeth: “Bilbo fell.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, then Thorin pushed through the ring of dwarrow, prepared to interrogate the two witnesses - only, it turned out the goblins were tired of being ignored, and they were poked and prodded with sharp sticks and claws, into facing the throne in the front center of the platform, where an immensely big and fat goblin was seated.  

The attention didn’t immediately turn towards the Goblin King though, Kíli murmuring fiercely to Fíli about all the ways they could have misunderstood and Bilbo could be fine. Ori was listening desperately, wanting to be convinced, and Fíli was nodding along with a grim set to his mouth, rubbing his brother’s back. Dori had one hand covering her mouth, and was clutching onto both her younger brothers’ shoulders, while Bifur and Bofur were furiously communicating in Iglishmek and Balin was whispering comforting words to Dwalin, who still hadn’t moved from where the goblins had thrown him to the ground.

Thorin silenced them all with a hand and a hard whisper of “We’ll discuss it later.”

The great goblin had moved off his throne and it was time to save what was left of the company, before worrying about their youngest member.

 

 

o0o

 

 

As they left the last of the goblins behind and stumbled out into daylight, all more or less intact, the company had no mind for cheer. Without words they all gathered around Dwalin and Nori again, and Thorin looked gravely at his old friend. Gandalf, who was hovering at the edge of the circle and counting his charges, quickly understood the problems, as the leader of their company spoke:

“Dwalin. What happened to Bilbo?”

Dwalin had the stony look of a warrior, as he kept his king’s gaze: “He charged in, to free me from a goblin clawing at my face. Another goblin tossed him away, and he was thrown right into a third one. They both got too close to the edge and they tipped over it while trying to fight each other off. I couldna see him when I looked over it - I couldna see a lick of the bottom either. It’twas a very long fall.”

 

Ori starting weeping.

Kíli bit his lip and shook his head, and didn’t let his brother hug him. Fíli was blinking frantically and finally gave up dragging Kíli into an embrace, hugging himself instead. Nori, crouched outside the group and already aware of the lost hobbit, was sharpening the few knifes he’d managed to save and keeping his face blank, while Dori, looking devastated, tried to comfort her crying brother.

Balin, Gloin and Oin, the oldest in the company, and the ones most used to loss, only bend their heads in quiet grief and anger, while Thorin turned his back on them all to stare into the heavens.

Bofur, the last to talk to Bilbo, and now regretting a lot about that conversation and most of all the length of it, was cradling his old hat to his chest and unashamedly crying too, while his brother was sniffling into his mustache and Bifur was spewing curses in Khuzdul.

 

Gandalf could only look in wonder at the affected dwarrow, even as he himself fought to keep the grief at bay, and look for other possible explanations.

How had the attitude to their little hobbit changed so much in his short absence?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter we'll be back with bilbo and the poor guy's stress about telling the truth, gandalf being back, and trying not to die from orcs

**Author's Note:**

> For an explanation of my Dwarf aging, and a full understanding of how old Bilbo is perceived to be, see this link: http://prygelknabe.tumblr.com/post/82128410535/prygelknabe-ok-so-for-easy-access-imma-post  
> The short version is that 50 in dwarrow age is around 12-13 in human age, and they have a tendency to pamper their kids until the age of 70-80, which is approximately 20 in human years (And sometimes longer, look at Ori I headcanon him as almost 100). So, expect Bilbo to be treated like a fragile preteen, with occasional overly smothering behavior more befitting a 5-year-old.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Of Adapting and Adopting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134735) by [violentgril](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentgril/pseuds/violentgril)




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